Imaginarium
by IAmAubrie
Summary: In a world where a certain football-headed child does not exist, two people find a way to cope with life.


**Imaginarium**

**A/N: I know I haven't published any shorts in a while and I apologize for that. I actually found this piece on my computer from about a year ago that I never published. Now, I'm just going to warn everyone that this is going to be a bit dark. There's not much else to say except that I hope you enjoy this piece, and don't forget to review! =]**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!**

**xXx**

[Helga's POV]

"I'm going to PWEESCHOOL!" Helga slammed the front door behind her.

The air was cold, but Helga didn't care. Nothing felt worse than her parents' neglect. She resented her sister for provoking them. Everything Olga did pleased their parents, but they barely noticed Helga.

The dark clouds above Helga began to rumble. Bright shards of lightning threatened the town of Hillwood. Rain started falling from the sky, soaking Helga's blonde hair. Her overalls stuck to her small body from the moisture.

Helga could not understand why she was never noticed around her home. She always wondered what made her so different than her sister Olga. Since before Helga could remember, Olga spent a lot of her time away from the house at something called a _school_. When she got home, she was usually found in her room, working on something she had obtained from school called _homework_.

School seemed to be the key to her sister's success in gaining their parents' attention. Helga, more than anything, wanted her parents' attention. Perhaps if she did well in school, she would gain that. It was Helga's idea to begin going to school.

In order to do this, Helga had asked Olga how she had started school.

"_Oh, baby sister! I started out in Urban Tots Preschool, it's only a few blocks south of the house! Has Mummy and Daddy registered you?"_

_Helga slowly shook her head._

"_Well, they should do it soon, that preschool starts next Monday!"_

Helga stopped at a crosswalk. A dark red car sped past, spraying Helga with the mud from the curb. The people waiting to cross the street with her didn't seem to notice. Suddenly, another memory trapped itself in the front of her mind.

"_This would have never happened to Olga!" Her father yelled at Helga after he had accidentally spilled the bowl of gravy on her at the dining room table. _

"_I'm s-sorry -" Helga began before her father burst into fury._

"_SORRY? These tablecloths don't clean themselves you know! This is a disgrace! LOOK AT THIS MESS!" Big Bob pointed to Helga, "You're going to clean this up, little lady!"_

Helga shook her head of the memory. Every time something bad happened, her father blamed her. Everything seemed to be Helga's fault. _Dad isn't going to like the mud on my clothes_, she thought, but trekked onward.

A thin and malnourished dog appeared from an alleyway on her way to the school. He quickly grabbed for Helga's lunchbox, growling in order to scare her. Helga tried her best to grip the lunchbox, but the dog was too strong. She fell to the ground in defeat. _It was empty anyway_.

It was Olga's old lunchbox. Their father usually gave Olga money to spend in the cafeteria of her school, so Helga knew she wouldn't mind borrowing her lunchbox. However, now Helga worried everyone would be angered by her negligence in losing it.

She quickly got to her feet. _Hopefully they won't be angered anymore_, Helga told herself, _because I am going to school from now on_. Little did she know that it would be several years before her parents would begin to take a positive notice of her.

Helga kept walking in the rain until she became aware of another car driving by the sidewalk. Fearing another splash of mud, Helga looked up at a large green automobile with a slashed front tire, pulling up to the curb.

A thin, old man in a brown coat and hat walked out of the car and inspected his slashed tire. He was muttering something to himself before turning toward the building next to them. Helga observed his face. The wrinkles by his eyes and lips were deeply set, but not from his old age.

_He looks so sad_, Helga thought. _Sad like me_.

She followed the old man's eyes. The building before them was Urban Tots Preschool. Just the place Helga needed to be, but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to walk inside.

_No one is going to notice me_, she thought to herself. _Why bother?_

Through the pouring rain, Helga heard the old man sniffle. She turned her attention back to him.

_I suppose it wouldn't be too bad if he had a son I could go to school with. No, he's old enough to be my grandpa… What if he had a grandson my age? He can be blonde, like me, but instead of always being sad, he would always be positive and happy! I sure hope he'd say something nice about my bow, I hope it's not too dirty._

Helga felt the wet bow atop her head and looked to the ground._ Maybe he can hold an umbrella over both me and this old man. But what could I name him?_

The old man began to speak. He spoke one word, but Helga heard it clearly.

"Arnold."

Helga's heart became calm at the sound of the name. She looked at the old man. His face looked a little less sad.

_Arnold is the perfect name._

Suddenly, the old man turned to the little girl.

xXx

[Phil's POV]

"Dagnabbit!" yelled an old man from behind the wheel of his green Packard. "Well, I'd better take a look at the damages."

Phil Shortman walked into the pouring rain to check his front right tire. On his way to the Sunset Arms boarding house, he had absentmindedly driven too far to the right and tore his tire on the curb of the sidewalk. The rain seemed to be getting heavier by the minute. Phil sighed.

"Looks like I'll have to call the tow-truck again," he surveyed his surroundings before eyeing the building next to him. He was about to walk towards the glass doors before he noticed the sign above him. Urban Tots Preschool.

Phil's heart sank. His mind went back to his son once again. Phil shook his head in dismay. It had been nearly two years since he last saw Miles. At first, he just pretended his son was on another expedition, but this proved to be difficult after several months without a letter.

Recently, his sadness and depression lead to his absentmindedness. Phil sometimes feared he was becoming as absentminded as his wife Gertie, who was now too far gone. The only thing that kept him going was his imagination.

Several years ago, Miles and his wife Stella decided to come back to Hillwood. They wanted to get away from San Lorenzo for a while, to recuperate after Stella's miscarriage. It was Miles' friend Eduardo who told them to go back for one last mission, but they didn't come back home. Phil asked for a search party to find his son and his wife, but to no avail. His plane was never found.

The rain was chilling, but Phil was numb already. He looked inside the building where many three and four-year olds were gathering for their first day of school. If Stella had not have miscarried, Phil would have had a grandson old enough to attend Urban Tots. He would be three years old. Phil let a warm tear roll down his cold and already wet cheek. He sniffled.

Phil imagined his grandson would have had bright, blonde hair like his own son's. Perhaps a face similar to Stella's. Phil promised he wouldn't let anything happen to his grandson. He promised to be there for him whenever he needed it. Phil would have passed on what his own grandfather had always told him. _"Never eat raspberries!"_

Today, his grandson would be wearing a raincoat. A bright yellow raincoat. Phil would give him an umbrella to shield him from the cold rain. His grandson would have been the happiest little boy in the world. Kind and honest and always willing to help others, just as his own son had been. Phil had even given his imaginary grandson a name.

When Miles and Stella came back to Hillwood, Stella had a very hard time sleeping at night. Gertie often found her in the kitchen at two in the morning and every time, Gertie made her hot tea and lent a comforting shoulder to cry on. After several late nights spent in the kitchen with Gertie, Stella decided to tell her what she wanted to name her unborn son. Phil was walking by the kitchen as she said it.

"_I wanted to name him Arnold, after my father. Arnold Phillip. It would have been the perfect name."_

Phil's pale lips curled slightly at the corners as he thought of the brilliant name.

"Arnold."

His thin body began to feel warm. Suddenly, Phil felt a presence to his right. He turned his attention to a little girl in pigtails whose large, blue eyes bore into his own.

She looked just as sad as he did; her clothes were dirtied from so much mud that he could barely make out that her overalls were pink. Her wet hair was slightly matted and stuck to her wet face. The only thing about her that stood out was her large, pink bow_. Why, she must have walked here all by herself_, he thought to himself. She looked so lonely and neglected.

Phil offered her the best smile he could muster, the best smile he had shown in years.

Arnold would offer his umbrella to this little girl, Phil thought. And maybe he should complement her pink bow. That should make her feel better.

The little girl slowly gave Phil a small, genuine smile before quickly turning towards the building and looking through the glass doors. He could almost make out the small sigh that came from the lonely girl, but it wasn't a sad sigh. It wasn't negative at all. In fact, Phil decided it was a sigh of hope.

**xXx**

**I hope you enjoyed this little short! I told you it was a bit dark, it actually saddened me to read it again. I don't know if I want to keep this as a one-shot or if I might add to it, so I'll save it as complete for now. Please take a look at my other works and as always, don't forget to REVIEW!**


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